


Root and Shaw ficlets/prompts

by science_weirdo



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Lots of stuff I guess, comment prompts!!, idk - Freeform, prompts, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:40:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7489977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/science_weirdo/pseuds/science_weirdo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HEYO I want to exercise my writing skills so give me a prompt and I'll do some root and Shaw magic! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone! I'm just a lonely queer person who wants to learn how to write better so please comment some prompts for root and Shaw! I will write as soon as I can! :)


	2. This is real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was from ShootMeRoot ! Is there a way to tag people or dedicate a chapter to someone? Cuz I don't know how so someone just lmk thanks. Anyway I tweaked the prompt SORRY but hope you all like it. :) (btw this is not beta'd or anything this is just blah)

She is gone. 

She kissed me on the forehead, and she left.  
Her God whispered things in her ear and she left me to go do what her God asked.  
I'm fine. I will take a deep breath.  
This is real.  
She left her scarf on the counter of the apartment we are using. I pick it up, unsure of what to do with it.  
Is it real?  
I press it to my face. Inhaling, I can confirm.  
This is real.

I am not used to this.  
I am alone and it bothers me.  
Samaritan really fucked this up, fucked me up.  
Right now, all I need to know if someone I know is out there, and knows me, and is real, and isn't in a simulation and it pains me that I need so many things.  
Root is away, so I call John.  
But he's dead. I knew, know that.  
Just like how I knew Root was dead  
But she wasn't, because she's Root.  
But John is not Root. And just like Joss was really dead, so was, is John. And I hear the dial tone. Bear runs up to me. I pet his head.

I call Lionel. He doesn't pick up. His super nerdy answering machine recording has been replaced. It says,  
"Hello, this is Lionel Fusco. Sorry I am not able to pick up the phone right now. If you leave a message, I will get back to you as soon as I can, or you can leave a message for me at the NYPD 8th precinct, homicide task force division. Thanks, bye."  
I do not know why he changed it.  
Maybe it isn't real. Maybe Samaritan did not know that his answering machine...  
I stop myself.  
That does not make sense, Samaritan would have had access to that information.  
This is real. I rub Bear's fur harder.

Root called that payphone. Like the nerd she is, she waited for me to pass the payphone, and watched as I picked it up through the camera on the street. She said,  
"I'm home, sweetie."  
She then gave me an address, and hung up the phone. Like the nerd I am, I looked up at the camera. I knew she would be watching. I took moments to process her real voice, and suddenly I knew, know she wouldn't have left me like that. I gave her her very own shit eating grin, and walked to the apartment we are now in.  
What happened next was some anger I didn't know I had (but of course I did), and then, extremely explicit things.

I would call Harold, but he's in Italy with Grace, as Root had told me while we were eating breakfast one day.  
We have spent the last three weeks together, me rolling my eyes and Root flirting generously in my direction.  
I don't mind.  
It helps me remember this is not a simulation.  
It brings back the faint memories of the simulations and how they never quite got Root right.  
Harold probably would not like me calling, or maybe he would, I don't know/care.  
But I respect him being a private individual.  
So I'll leave him alone.

My phone buzzes. Ironic. It's from Her.  
It is a new number.  
She is not speaking in Root's voice.  
It is not John's or Joss' voice either.  
It is not a voice at all.  
I have gotten a text.  
"Are you not going to steal someone else's voice?" I ask with my usual sarcasm.  
My phone buzzes again.  
WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SPEAK?  
I roll my eyes.  
"Do what you like, Robot God."  
In response, I get another text.  
YOU HAVE 45 MIN. YOU WILL NEED A GUN.  
That is not the Machine I know.  
The Machine would at least say 'I am not a robot' or something. Or say something about taking or leaving Bear.  
Or something about how Root was doing.  
Is this real?  
I pause, as I am halfway out the door already, Bear asleep in his little bed, not realising that my limbs have followed the Machine's instructions. I have a gun and ammo, and I don't remember.  
But I do.  
Stop it, Sameen. Don't go crazy.  
The Machine is rebuilding. Cut some slack. She has lost data and is rebuilding.  
You know this. Come on.  
This is real.

I am mad at the Machine.  
I know now that Root had nothing to do with faking her own death, and that the Machine took a chance.  
A very precarious chance.  
After Samaritan, all of my emotions are hard to process, even harder than before.  
So my anger does not register, process until I think about the whole situation. I think,  
'Root was put in danger.'  
That alone is enough to make me want to burn Her servers down.  
But Samaritan is gone.  
And Root is here.  
But not now, she isn't.  
Right now she's back in danger.  
I do not know where she is.

I know where I am.  
I am in my number's apartment. Strangely, the bedroom layout reminds me of Samaritan.  
It is all white.  
Sparse in decorations, except this room has two black and white pictures, a bedside table with a pastel blue lamp on it, and two women and a man with guns.  
Fun.

This feels like the room where I was kept against my will.  
The room where countless simulations bled through to real life, and real life bled through to countless simulations.  
The number is hiding in the bathroom. I do not know much about her, only that she clearly messed with the wrong people.  
But I am frozen.  
These people are demanding for her to come out, wherever she is. One of the women starts to look around the apartment.

I could be in this room at the South African prison.  
This could be a simulation.  
It feels familiar.  
But what's more familiar is the leather jacket that catches my eye, climbing out of the window in the bathroom, right in the corner of my eye.  
Is it her?  
Is that real?  
I know the fire escape is right outside the window.  
Root would, does do that.  
She makes sure the number is safe.  
I turn my eyes back to the man and woman right in front of me. Both of them have their guns trained on me.  
I forgot, they're yelling at me.  
I don't really care.  
I'm still stuck in a simulation.

Until, I hear a bathroom door shut, and then the sound of two gunshots, of a body thudding.  
It was the woman who went to look for our number.  
Five more bullets are let out, one from the woman still standing, shooting where she thought the shots came from, her eyes wild and scared.  
The other four shots hit her and the other guy in the knees.  
A gentle hand is placed on my arm, slowly pushing it down.  
I did not realise my gun was still pointing at the two perps.

Two arms encircle my waist, and two words are spoken.  
"I'm sorry."  
I open my eyes, not realising they are closed, and look around the room.  
It looks nothing like the prison I was held in.  
It is a room, simple.  
I turn around.  
"Is she safe? Is the number okay?" Are my questions.  
Root nods, a frown toying with her face.  
"Yes. But sweetie, are you?"

 


End file.
